


a fire that never burns to embers

by charleybradburies



Series: it's our resistance // you can't resist us [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Era, Conversations, Drabble, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, House Stark, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kissing, Manipulation, One-Sided Attraction, Other, POV Sansa, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sansa-centric, Scheming, Season/Series 07, Sister-Sister Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Lust, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: in which the Stark sisters don't completely understand each other, but are locked, loaded, and playing Littlefinger for all he's worth. (part two)...and he is truly none the wiser, since Sansa knows just what he wants to hear.title from skillet's "the resistance".[note: no intense non-con, just unwanted romantic advances.]





	a fire that never burns to embers

Baelish rounds the corner towards her, where she stands watching Arya show a little girl how to hold a bow - and recalling her earlier story about their father watching as she learned herself. 

“May I, Lady Sansa?”

Sansa nods carefully, and he steps close to her. Close enough that she wonders if Arya can sense him - if she can feel Sansa's unease. Sansa keeps her gaze down at the yard. 

“Do you...value...my counsel, Sansa?”

She makes a point of looking at him like he’d asked her if summer flowers were blooming in the godswood. 

“I _seek_ your counsel, Petyr. Particularly now that Jon is...away.”

“And yet, you sent Lady Brienne to King’s Landing this morning.”

“I sent her because I trust her to represent me and the North in a way that might be taken seriously.”

“After you were frightened for your safety from your sister, and I reminded you that Lady Brienne would be duty-bound to protect you from Arya...or, Arya from herself.”

“And what would you have me do? Go to King’s Landing to treat with Cersei myself?”

The glint in his eye is that of the look he has when declaring what he calls love.

“I _could_ have gone.”

Sansa scoffs. 

“And give Cersei the satisfaction of publicly condemning you as a turncloak, a traitor to the crown now that you represent Northern interests? Absolutely not."

She knows he'd just have tried to sell what he was doing for the North as a clever way of supporting the realm, but she doesn't trust him enough to leave him alone with her enemies. 

"Besides, Jaime Lannister and Brienne developed quite a respect for each other when she served my mother, enough so that Cersei sought her out at Joffrey’s wedding to ask about the nature of their relationship.”

Petyr almost seems surprised by that. Sansa resists the urge to smirk.

“Cersei’s nature, and your own, would make me fear that you would never return.”

She puts her gloved hand atop the mockingbird on his chest, trying not to focus on the way his eyes bore into hers, like she’s insulted him.

_She has._

“You’ve told me the story of your duel with my uncle Brandon. If the Kingsguard took up arms against you, I’d never have gotten you back, would I?”

Some sort of realization dawns on him. 

“If nothing else, Ser Jaime will know better than to try to best her. And I don’t think even Cersei doubts her devotion.”

“She does give it so wholeheartedly, yes. It would be hard to doubt the loyalty of someone like that.”

If she didn’t know him better, Sansa would think he sounds jealous. But no - he’s looking out at the yard again, watching how Arya reacts as the little girl shoots and misses. Sansa can’t hear her, but she knows that Arya’s encouraging her, and she vaguely hopes that Arya has a daughter of her own one day.

“Your sister, though,” Petyr sighs. “She’s...difficult. All the skill she's shown, and...the ease with which she threatens murder tells me that we might not be able to imagine what your sister is capable of.”

Sansa opens her mouth, but says nothing. A tear comes to the corner of her eye, and just as soon as she’s noticed it, Petyr’s reached out and wiped it away.

“She scares you,” he says, as though it’s some immense revelation. He doesn’t move his hand from her cheek. As cold as it is outside, the leather feels cold against her skin, but it’s the desperation in his touch that bothers her.

“Of course she scares me, Petyr. I have enough to worry about without my own sister threatening to cut my face off. I even told her, I - I know this, this discord, is exactly what Cersei wants, but...”

“She’s hard to get through to.”

“Both of them are. I tried to ask Bran what he’s seen of her, since he knew about that - that list, but he speaks in riddles worse than she does. I don’t...I don’t know what to do, Petyr. I was so happy to see them come home, but...”

She gulps, but finishes her sentence.

“It’s hard to know if they really did come home at all.”

He pretends to force a tiny grin, presumably to offer her some comfort, but she knows him well enough for it to boil her blood.

“Time, my sweet. Perhaps they need time to adjust to being home, being with you. You were all children the last time you saw each other. Perhaps if you just...keep talking to them. Show them the woman you’ve become.”

He pulls her free hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Let them learn to love you like Jon does. Like I do.”

Sansa moves her other hand to his cheek, and tries not to think of how this moment would look to an outsider. He cups his other hand around it, and his smile is truer.

“Thank you, Petyr.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He leans forward and kisses her cheek. 

“My queen,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear him. She closes her eyes and steels herself for the glance he’ll give her as he walks away.

By the time Sansa opens her eyes a few seconds later, Arya’s murderous glare is following Littlefinger away from her.


End file.
